Guilty Pleasure
by Light in the Sky
Summary: Reyson harbors feelings for a certain mage. If only he would feel the same way about Reyson. Reyson/Soren
1. Chapter 1

Guilty Pleasure

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.

The Greil Mercenaries camp was bustling with activity. A large and fierce battle with the Daein army had been fought not too long ago, and both sides had incurred considerable losses. The majority of the Greil Mercenaries and their Laguz allies, under the command of Ike, were hard at work tending to the wounded and handling supplies. The camp area was lightly blanketed with snow, and the sound of boots crunching into snow could be heard here and there. Mercenaries and Laguz alike were running this way and that, carrying items, weapons, medical supplies, and the wounded to all different parts of the camp.

Reyson himself was exhausted beyond belief having sung many galdrar in the field of battle, but luckily the Heron had not been injured in any way during the vicious fight. Reyson did not quite know what to do amidst all the disorder in the camp. The White Prince was of the Serenes Royalty and one of the last of the Heron Laguz. He was a beautiful and awe inspiring sight for many. A pretty face with shimmering long blonde hair, white flowing garments accompanying the magnificent white wings and delicate body made Reyson such a lovely display. But for all his good looks, Reyson could not offer much help at a time like this. He was no healer so he could not offer much help to the wounded, nor was he strong enough to carry such heavy equipment.

Reyson roamed through the camp, passing Rhys and Mist who were standing beside stretchers and beds, their staves emblazoned with soft golden light as they administered healing magic to wounded soldiers. Mordecai and Oscar appeared to be occupied as well, each carrying large boxes of supplies to various tents in the camp. Reyson would have liked to offer his services, but knew that he would be of no use. He wandered farther into the camp, weaving his way between frost covered trees and snow laden tents. At the center of the camp a larger tent, which acted as a headquarters of a sort, was set up.

The commander's tent flap was open so Reyson watched from a distance as the Greil Mercenaries leader, Ike, conversed with his deputy Titania, and his tactician Soren. All three were seated at a table and were deeply engaged in what it looked to be important conversation as Soren presumably debriefed them of the status of their patchwork army.

Reyson was too far to make out anything that was being said, but it seemed the discussion came to a conclusion as Ike and Titania got up from their seats. Reyson hid himself behind a frost covered tree as they exited the tent, going off to attend to the needs of the camp and the troops. Once the sound of boots crunching into snow faded, Reyson peaked around the tree. Soren had not moved, and was using a quill and ink to jot down more notes on the parchment in hand.

Reyson secretly watched Soren from a distance. He had only known Soren ever since meeting Ike and the Greil Mercenaries, but there was something about Soren that Reyson found pleasing to his eyes. The young black-haired mage had a soft feminine appearance and was certainly something wonderful to look at. Fantasizing about the cute little mage was definitely a guilty pleasure of Reyson's.

Aside from the fact that Reyson found the mage eye-catching, Soren held a powerful position as the army's strategist. The success and failure of the battles fought, the life and death of the soldiers were all in the hands of the little tactician. Such a great power wielded so carefully and respectfully. Reyson found this quality about him to be… well…sexy.

Reyson also had a vague understanding that Soren was a Branded, which meant that Soren had both Beorc and Laguz blood running in his veins. Almost nobody knew that Soren was a Branded, but as a Heron Laguz Reyson could sense these sort of things and picked up on them easily. Soren looked like a normal Beorc except for the mark on his forehead, hence the name Branded. Others assumed that the mark on his forehead was the mark of a spirit charmer.

Reyson cared not that Soren was a Branded, and continued to stare at the mage dreamily. Soren was such a stunning and breathtaking beauty! Never had he met someone who had looked like this, who was so delightfully exquisite. His long black hair shone in the evening sunset, individual strands of raven hair framing his beautiful face as his ruby red eyes looked down at the paper in front of him. His dark robes were neatly gathered around him as he scribbled on the parchment.

The Heron noticed that his face was beginning to feel a bit warm. _'Am I blushing?'_ Reyson felt his cheek with a gloved hand. _'Dear Goddess, I am.'_ Reyson looked away from Soren to recollect his thoughts. _'Well I certainly do enjoy looking at him… I'm not falling in love with him am I?' _No being, Beorc or Laguz had ever made him feel this way.

Reyson's sudden realization that he had feelings for Soren made him feel excited, but it also made him a little nervous. Reyson knew that as one of the last Heron Laguz he would be one of the more remarkable creatures hanging around the camp, but Soren made him feel inadequate. As a powerful mage and a very skilled healer, Soren had the ability to give and take life as he pleased. Reyson on the other hand, what did he do? He flew around and sang songs! Revived trees! Reyson felt so little and insignificant compared to Soren, even though he was of Serenes Royalty, and was a practitioner of Seid magic.

Reyson craned his neck a little to get a better view of the mage and began to daydream. Reyson imagined himself touching Soren's lovely face with his hands, running his fingers through those long black tresses, undoing those dark robes and letting them fall, revealing his nice porcelain skin, the taste of his lips… '_I need to stop thinking such impure thoughts. This is terribly selfish of me.' _Reyson shook his head to clear said thoughts and tried not to pay attention to Soren anymore. But the poor Heron couldn't resist and focused his eyes on Soren once more only to find that the mage, quill still in hand, paused mid-sentence, had looked up from his work, and was gazing right back at him.

Soren had caught the White Prince openly staring at him. Realizing this, Reyson panicked and immediately looked away. _'Oh no, what do I do!'_ His face and neck flushed bright red as he quickly backed up and bumped into Kieran who was carrying a few freshly sharpened axes (what a terrible accident that could have been!), and then turned and knocked over a stack of boxes with a pearly white wing.

"Sorry!" Reyson blurted nervously. Ulki and Janaff watched the White Prince curiously as his wings clumsily clipped branches while briskly walking away.

Fortunately, Reyson had made it back to his own tent without any further trouble and took a deep breath. '_How careless of me to look at Soren while I was standing right in front of him!' _Reyson mentally slapped himself. '_And how stupid of me to act so guilty!_' Reyson raged silently to himself before running his fingers through his golden blonde hair in order to straighten it out which had become tangled when he "fled the scene". He sincerely hoped that Soren had not caught on to what he was doing, much less thinking as he brushed some snow off of his lustrous white wings.

Back at the Commander's tent, Soren was a bit confused. He finished the report and set it aside. '_Reyson had been standing there for quite some time_.' Soren noticed. _'Ever since Ike and Titania received the battle reports…What was he doing just staring at me like that? If something is troubling him, he should speak up.' _Soren hesitated for a moment, trying to recall the manner in which the gorgeous white Heron Prince had turned and left._ 'Was that a blush that I saw on his face?' _The mage shook his head and dismissed it as nothing. There were more important matters at hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Night had fallen on the encampment and the blazes of cooking fires dotted the campsite; the particular crackling sound of fire and wood, a welcome sensation to Reyson's ears as he drew his wings close to his body for warmth. The night sky had clouded over and the drop in temperature had caused snow to lightly fall.

However, the cold and dark environment did not dampen the spirit in the air that night as earlier that day they had won a hard fought battle. Ike's mercenaries were the highlight of the celebration because it is they who had led the coalition this far. Much of the army's troops were eating to their heart's content as the next day would bring another violent encounter.

Reyson had just finished a revitalizing and tasty meal of assorted fruits whereas fellow Hawks, Janaff and Ulki, preferred to tear into chunks of roasted meat rather than dine on fruit. The three bird tribe Laguz ate in peace, seated on small wooden boxes around a small campfire set up a little distance away from the main contingent of the army. The Heron Prince did not particularly like Hawk cuisine as most of it consisted of meat from a slain forest animal. If he were to eat any sort of meat, he would have rather eaten some sort of seafood; more appropriate fare for a Heron.

Reyson did not find it repulsive that his good friends feasted on the huge spits of meat but their table manners were simply atrocious. Ulki and Janaff nearly always bit off more meat than their mouths could hold but that's not only what Reyson found appalling. They even tried to speak with their mouths full! Their sentences were frequently interrupted by the need to chew and swallow their food.

"You know Ulki… you ought to… carry around Laguz stones… more often."

"Mhm."

"They can really help… you out in a pinch."

"Mhm."

"I used one today… to take out some of the enemy's cavalry… that had just showed up."

"Mhm."

"You have some… on you don't you?"

"Yes… Ptoo!" Ulki spat out a bone and wiped his mouth.

If Reyson had not known them for all these years, he probably would have found their eating habits disgusting. Instead, Reyson found their dining habits entertaining, if not comical.

As Ulki and Janaff continued to help themselves to dinner, Reyson watched the glowing campfire and began to daydream. Crimson eyes, beautiful long black hair, and a striking feminine appearance… The White Prince sat there glumly and thought of various ways in which he can somehow meet the strategist and have a friendly conversation with him. But the little mage was so difficult to approach. Soren was known to be somewhat of a recluse among the Greil Mercenaries. While the other Greil Mercenaries enjoyed the company of others, Soren always locked himself away, reading books and tomes, studying scrolls and stacks of parchment. The only other person who Soren readily spoke with was General Ike. Reyson sighed to himself. Befriending Soren would definitely prove to be a challenge.

But why did he want to become friends with Soren anyway? Reyson tried numerous times to convince himself that he wasn't falling in love with Soren; that he only meant to be a friend of Soren's. Unfortunately, Reyson could not quell his obsession with the little black-haired mage. The Heron again felt ashamed for letting such fascination utterly consume him.

Reyson knew what it felt like to have someone obsess over his beauty. Not too long ago, the Duke of Tanas, Oliver, had captured and imprisoned Prince Reyson as a work of art or some sort of pet. The same way someone would keep a caged dove as a pet. Thinking about this made Reyson feel even worse. Oliver had merely obsessed over Reyson's beauty. Reyson on the other hand, obsessed over Soren in that he was a focal point for his sexual desire. A wave of guilt crashed into the Heron Prince once more, as his own intentions became crystal-clear. Reyson desperately sought a way in which he might justify his relationship with Soren. Perhaps it wouldn't seem so terribly shallow if Soren felt the same way about him.

Reyson suddenly jarred from his trance as a familiar voice was heard in the wind. The Heron Prince viewed his surroundings, searching for the source of his startling return to reality. Ulki and Janaff had finished their meal and were now discussing battle tactics as it began to snow harder. Reyson heard the voice again and turned his head towards the tent next to theirs.

Sure enough, Soren was standing there holding a small box in his arms, distributing vulneraries to Oscar, Boyd, and Rolf. Soren spoke briefly with each of them before turning towards Reyson's direction. _'Oh, shoot!' _ Reyson looked away and began to smooth over his white garments, making sure his appearance was acceptable to his crush. An all too familiar heart racing sensation overtook the Heron as the sound of sandals lightly stepping on snow came closer.

Soren quietly handed Janaff and Ulki their vulneraries, careful not to interrupt their seemingly important discussion where Janaff and Ulki briefly expressed their thanks before continuing to banter with one another. Soren then took a few small steps toward the Heron. A blush had already begun to spread over Reyson's neck and face as he pretended to be preoccupied with brushing snow off his boot. Fortunately, the campfire did not provide enough light to reveal his blush.

"You look weary Prince Reyson. I'd recommend you get some rest." Soren peered into the box and fished out two vulneraries. Reyson looked up to stare at the beautiful mage standing in front of him. His long black hair was covered in snowflakes and his dark robes were flapping slightly in the wind. _'Oh, he's such an adorable little thing."_ Reyson thought to himself.

"I will retire in a bit. Thank you for your concern, Soren." Reyson held out both hands and graciously received the vulneraries, eyes never leaving the little tactician. The Heron gave Soren a small smile and then pocketed the vulneraries.

"I see that Ike has tasked you with handling medical equipment for tonight." Reyson tried to chat with the mage a bit.

"Yes that is so." Soren's ruby eyes were unwavering and his facial expression remained unchanged as he shifted his grip on the box. "Oh, Ike has ordered the army to mobilize at daybreak in order to avoid any delay caused by the snow. Now if you'll excuse me. Goodnight, Prince Reyson."

"Goodnight, Soren." Reyson replied cheerfully.

With this exchange of words, Soren turned and left. Reyson watched dejectedly, as Soren walked back to the commander's tent. As he was walking, Soren slipped on the icy ground and grabbed a low-hanging tree branch in order to regain his balance. A few vulneraries fell out of the box and landed noiselessly in the snow. Soren, unaware that he had dropped the vulneraries, continued his trek through the snow and back to the tent.

While Soren was making his way through the snow, Reyson's behavior once again came to mind. _'He was acting very warm and cordial to me.' _Soren ducked to avoid a tree branch. _'Uncharacteristically friendly…He even attempted to make small talk.' _Soren also took note of how Reyson looked and smiled at him. Soren had seen such behavior before; when the knights courted the young upper-class women or even the chambermaids at the royal castle. The strategist also remembered that earlier that day he had seen the Heron Prince eyeing him from a distance._ 'Was Prince Reyson flirting with me?'_ The realization that Reyson was pursuing him hit Soren like a sack of bricks. _'Oh Goddess...' _Soren blushed a little at the idea. What interest did the Prince of Serenes have with this lowly Branded tactician of the Greil Mercenaries? Soren wasn't even particularly fond of the Laguz.

On a second thought, Soren didn't mind getting to know the dazzling white Heron Prince. He would like to learn more of the Seid magic and the history of the Heron Laguz. Maybe this knowledge could help bridge the gap between Beorc and Laguz. Maybe he could fondle that pretty face and glimmering blonde hair, touch his feathery white wings, strip him of his white vestments and feel his fair skin. Wait… what? Soren put a stop to his current train of thought. That was completely unnecessary and irrational.

When Soren was out of sight, Reyson walked over to the vulneraries lying on the floor and picked them up, careful as not to slip on the same patch of ice. Reyson smiled as an idea crept into the Heron's mind. He would go out later that night to find Soren alone and return the vulneraries to him. Reyson trudged back over to the campfire and flapped his white wings to clear the snow off then drew them close around his body once more. Reyson began to grow nervous again. What could he possibly say that would be of interest to the young mage?

Ulki and Janaff had already gone to bed leaving Reyson alone outside the tent. In fact, much of the army had already gone inside their tents, probably seeking shelter from the snow and piercing wind. His thoughts turned to Soren as he delicately pocketed the vulneraries.


	3. Chapter 3

The weather was getting progressively worse. Snow was falling heavily, the wind had picked up strength, and visibility had diminished to the point where Reyson couldn't see more than fifty feet ahead. He plodded through the snow flurries with his head down, glamorous white wings folded around him for warmth, long golden blonde hair whipping his face. The vulneraries clinked around in his pocket. The sound of leafless trees rattling in the wind was the only audible thing that Reyson could hear other than the howling wind itself. The little campfire that he had previously been sitting in front of had died completely and the Heron did not attempt to revive it. The only available light came from the fires that had been lighted within the tents. Each tent that was illuminated had a trail of smoke escaping from the top.

Reyson had already begun his search for the tactician's quarters. All the tents were exactly the same with the exception of the commander's tent, which was slightly larger. A standard issue tent for a regular of the army was still very spacious, allowing two or three cots to be set up, or a cot and a table, still leaving some room left over for storage. The number of tents in the encampment was simply staggering. After all, an entire army was situated here.

'_This would be a lot easier if the weather wasn't so horrifying.' _Reyson had become very frustrated with the recent turn of events. He contemplated giving up, but then immediately banished the thought. _'A little snow like this won't stop me.'_ The Heron concluded, as he waded through knee-deep mounds of snow. If anything, this would be the perfect time to meet the mage. At this hour and with the weather so dire, there would be very little to disrupt them.

The White Prince really hoped that the mage had not gone to sleep yet. Reyson reasoned that the mage had not yet gone to bed because it wasn't very late, plus the strategist was probably up doing what he did best – strategizing. Reyson had half a mind to go ask Ike or another Greil Mercenary of the mage's whereabouts, but decided against it. He did not want anybody wondering why the Heron Prince was eagerly searching for the army's tactician during a blizzard.

Soren would definitely not be in the commander's tent since Ike had probably occupied that space already. Also, the commander's tent still functioned as the core of the camp. There would probably be mercenaries and soldiers going in and out with various orders and running errands making it a busy place with lots of people; something that Soren probably didn't enjoy. However, Reyson did not know where else to begin, nor was it out of his way to drop by.

Upon arriving at the entrance of the commander's tent, Reyson was greeted warmly by none other than the company's sniper, Shinon. Even though he was a highly skilled archer, possibly a master of his craft, and a very valuable asset to the Greil Mercenaries, Reyson disliked the bow and arrow toting redhead. As far as Reyson was concerned, Shinon detested the Laguz. He was a complete mess. It looked like he had repeatedly fallen down in the snow.

"Hey, if it isn't Prince Reyson! What's a sub-human like you…hic! doing out on a night like this? Shinon's yelled over the din of the snowstorm, his speech slurred. Oh, that explained why he was caked with snow. Shinon was rip-roaring drunk. "I never knew you Herons… thrived in this sort of weather!"

Reyson's eye's narrowed dangerously. _'Cursed human!' _Reyson tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. It was ignorant Beorc like these that had caused the Serenes massacre twenty years ago, and for that, Reyson would never forgive them. A brief vision of the Heron Prince's fist, flying into Duke Tanas' face came to mind. Shinon was someone who really needed such treatment. However, Reyson did break his hand when he punched Oliver.

"Shinon, do you know where Soren might be?" Reyson tried to keep this meeting strictly business and nothing more. If he had warmed up to the conversation any further, he and Shinon probably would have fought. Even though the redhead was intoxicated, the delicate Heron most likely would have lost.

"Soren is an arrogant and…hic! insolent whelp! His tent is somewhere to the… left of Ike's" Shinon drawled. He leaned against a tree for support. "What do you need… of him, half-breed?"

"That's none of your concern, human!" Reyson answered with a scathing remark of his own. Reyson gave an irritated flap of his fluffy white wings producing a cloud of powdery snow, and headed in the direction that Shinon had pointed. As Reyson walked away, Shinon, blinded by the fine snow, stumbled and fell again, a stream of curse words flying from his mouth.

There were two tents to the left of the commander's tent. _'Which one could it be?' _Reyson observed that one tent had a fire burning inside of it and the other did not. Not willing to wait outside in the blistering cold any longer, Reyson took his chances. The snow covered Heron positioned himself in front of the sealed tent flap of the faintly glowing tent and called out.

"Soren, are you there?" The voice was stifled and was barely capable of being heard from within the tent.

Soren, sitting at a desk, set his quill down and rubbed his hand which was stiff from writing. He had been doing a little bit of research on Heron Galdrar. It wasn't any serious research but more for his entertainment. He had been trying to translate the lyrics of the Galdr of Rebirth into the Beorc language just to see what it meant. Sadly, the tactician's lack of knowledge of the ancient language was making progress difficult.

'_Who could that be?' _Soren got up from his seat and stretched. A cheery fire that the mage had lit in the center of the tent had produced plenty of heat, making the tent cozy and warm. The smoke from the blaze was siphoned out through a hole at the top. Soren had discarded a few of his outermost garments, revealing a sleeveless black tunic that exposed much of his pale neck, and matching black robes draped around his body extending to his ankles. His slender porcelain colored arms glistened in the light, as his untied raven locks hung about his shoulders and neck. He got up and untied the tent flap.

To Soren's surprise, in walked a snow covered Prince Reyson, his pretty wings wrapped tightly around his body, and snow flakes decorating his blonde flowing tresses. The Heron Prince had never come to see the tactician in private before and at such an hour. Soren was alarmed. Reyson was stalking him relentlessly. Mixed feelings of helplessness and excitement overcame the usually stolid mage. Like a predator closing in on its prey, Soren felt that he was cornered here in his tent. _'I don't even have all my clothes on, not that it would be displeasing to him!' _ With crimson orbs fixed on the strikingly beautiful white Heron, Soren's thoughts abruptly changed. Perhaps some time alone with Reyson would be a pleasant and welcome change to his usual solitude.

Reyson, after sweeping the snow off his clothing with his hands and relaxing his wings, looked up to a most astonishing sight. The Heron Prince had just noticed that Soren was lightly dressed. More of his fair white skin was exposed and it glistened in the fire, driving the Heron wild. _'His lovely hair is also unbound. Oh, Goddess. This is almost criminal.' _

Soren readily stared back and took note of how the Heron Prince ogled him. His previous suspicions had just been confirmed. There was no doubt that Reyson found him attractive. The mage willingly returned the sentiment. It appeared that every time Soren came across Reyson, he was drawn more and more to the Heron's good looks. _'Look at his emerald green eyes and how the snowflakes adorn his long blonde hair. Mmm, why don't you let me brush them off for you?' _

As if on cue, both the tactician and the Heron blushed and broke eye contact. Reyson, remembering why he had come, stepped forward.

"Soren, I believe you dropped these earlier." Reyson dug into his pocket and produced the vulneraries. He tried his best to sound easy-going and friendly, anything that would lighten the air and reduce the tensions between them.

"Oh, thank you Prince Reyson. I was wondering why I had counted a lower number of these when I got back." Soren kept his expression neutral, like how it usually was. He went over to a corner of the tent where the small wooden box he carried earlier had been stored, and put away the vulneraries. He turned around to see Prince Reyson observing the parchment and books on his desk that the mage had been working with before, his pearly wings folded neatly behind him. Reyson could barely conceal his amusement.

"It's a good thing you dropped by. I wanted to ask you about this." Soren explained as he came up to the desk and stood beside the Heron. The black-haired mage picked up the book that had the Galdr of Rebirth in the ancient language written in it and showed it to Reyson.

"You have been trying to translate the lyrics into the Beorc language, I see." Reyson chuckled, a soft melodious sound that was music to Soren's ears. The Heron Prince observed the parchment that had the mage's rough translation scribbled on it, and smiled.

"I didn't do too well, did I?" Soren asked bluntly.

"Well I don't want to sound mean but…yes, this was pretty bad."

Soren laughed. He ran his fingers through his long black locks and eyed Reyson from head to toe.

The Heron set aside the parchment and drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. "For what reason are you trying to do this, might I ask? The song holds no magical properties when sung in a different language."

"I'm not sure. I was just wanted to know what it meant, that's all." Soren reached over and picked up the bottle of ink he was using and reinserted the cork. He placed it back on the desk.

"It's so unlike you to do something out of the blue like this. You're all about practicality and logic usually." Reyson scratched his fair head confusedly, and continued to review the parchment.

"I don't think you know me very well, Prince Reyson."

With a twinkle in his eye, the Heron turned towards Soren. "I would sure like to learn more." Reyson inadvertently looked at the mage's bared neck.

Soren averted his gaze towards the ground and rubbed his cheek, trying to hide his obvious blush. Some of his black tresses covered his face. _'I never knew the White Prince would be one for sweet-talk! Aren't the Herons supposed to be all about purity, innocence and whatnot?' _ Then again, Reyson did spend lots of time with the Hawk tribe.

Reyson, noticing Soren's bashfulness, smiled warmly and pressed on. "I would be more than happy to translate it for you right here, by singing it in the Beorc tongue."

Crimson orbs looked up into emerald green eyes. "Could you? That would be great."

Soren, still blushing furiously, took a seat on the soft cot at the rear of the tent and pulled back the raven tresses covering his eyes so as not to obscure his vision. The tactician was rather eager to hear the Heron's song up front. The only other time when he heard the Galdr of Rebirth was when Reyson and Leanne had sung a duet in order to revive the Serenes Forest.

Reyson turned to face his audience of one, cleared his throat, and took a few deep breaths in order to relax. He did not want to mess up his performance in front of his crush. When he felt he was ready, he closed his eyes and began.

_Endless grief and sorrow  
Hearts slumbering again  
Stars frozen in their place  
Darkness envelopes the land_

_But in the spilling of blood  
a hope still glimmers dim  
in a reflection in the water  
in a whisper in the wind_

_Gather your courage  
It will break the bonds of night  
Take wing, and dance upon the sky  
Take wing, and dance upon the sky_

The Heron's song was absolutely mesmerizing. Even though it didn't trigger any sort of spell, the song still had a soothing effect. The tactician stared at the angelic White Prince who almost glowed in the light from the fire. He had never heard such a fine voice before. Reyson had sung all the notes perfectly and was never off key or rhythm. The mage was smitten.

"That was outstanding." The tactician commended. Soren's expression held nothing but pure amazement. "My translation wasn't close at all."

Reyson laughed softly. "It felt kind of odd singing it in Beorc tongue, but I managed." Reyson said, while pulling out the chair to take a seat next to Soren's cot. "I'm glad you liked it."

* * *

The noise of the fire crackling lightly and the wind howling outside was the only sound heard, as the eyes of the Heron and the mage bore into each other's.

Reyson's eyes briefly examined the mark on Soren's forehead. _'There's the brand.'_

Reyson broke the silence, "May I ask you a personal question, if you don't mind?"

"Of course you can." Soren responded evenly, shifting to a more comfortable position on the white cot, crimson orbs never glancing away from the beautiful Heron.

"That mark of yours, on your forehead. That's no mark of a spirit charmer." Reyson solemnly reached out and touched the brand on Soren's forehead.

Soren shrunk back a little. "What? I don't know what you mean…" The mage averted his gaze yet again, but not for the same reason as before.

Reyson had hit a soft spot. He was aware that Soren's mood had suddenly become withdrawn and introverted. The Heron Prince did not want to make the tactician uncomfortable or upset, but if they were to be friends, Reyson would have him speak the truth.

Reyson leaned forward in his chair, glittering light dancing off his predominantly white demeanor. "It would do you no good trying to hide it, Soren. It is merely the nature of the Laguz to perceive such things."

Soren frowned. "If you already know this then why bring it up?" The mage sighed and shuffled his sandaled feet uncertainly on the soft earthen floor.

"The question doesn't end there. I would like to know how you lived your life."

"Why would anyone like to hear such a disgusting and horrifying tale?"

Soren's emotional pain ran deep. Many years of his treacherous and unstable life had really spent him. Reyson could nearly feel the turmoil and chaos running unchecked within the tactician.

Soren glared at Reyson. "And why would a Laguz like you, be so sympathetic to someone like me?" The touchy subject had Soren on edge. His visage, initially friendly and pleasant, had turned icy and hostile.

The Heron Prince gave the mage an apologetic look. "Soren, I understand that my Laguz brothers and sisters ignore you for who you are." Reyson said quietly. "On behalf of them, I am sorry." Reyson reached over and took up Soren's smaller hand in his own. "Please accept my apology."

The mage blinked several times, trying to conceal the tears welling up in his ruby eyes, long black tresses falling in front of his face. No Laguz from any tribe had ever broached the issue of relations between the Branded and the Laguz, much less apologized for their actions. The White Prince had been so sincere in asking for forgiveness that his words touched his stone cold heart.

Instead of thanking him for his apology, Soren continued. "I've never had parents or knew who they were. A woman used to take care of me, but she did not love me as a parent loved their child. Oftentimes, she would tell me to stay away from her…" Soren's voice trailed off. His crimson eyes had lost focus, as if he were no longer in the tent.

"When I was about the age of four, a sage, deceived by the brand on my forehead took me in, thinking I was a spirit charmer. The old sage did not have much time left, and he needed an apprentice to which he could pass on his magical abilities." Soren's voice was shaky as he spilled out the story of his darkest days to his Heron friend. Reyson, still holding Soren's hand, listened intently.

"I trained without rest, until the sage's passed away two years later, at which point I was left alone. I realized that I would need to be able to sustain myself once the food in the departed sage's domicile was expended. I had no knowledge of how to speak either. I could read and write, understand what other people said, but I could not utter a single word. I wandered throughout Gallia on the brink of death, the Laguz walking past me without even hesitating or thinking twice…"

Without warning, Reyson leaned over and hugged the mage. "Oh Soren, I'm so sorry."

Soren, choking back tears, returned the hug and buried his face into the Heron's clothes and neck. "It's okay Prince Reyson. You don't need to apologize or assume responsibility for the fault of others."

Reyson broke from the hug and sat next to Soren on the cot, one white wing draping around the mage to cuddle him and hold him close. Blonde flowing tresses mingled with long raven locks as Soren leaned his head against the Heron's shoulder.

Reyson felt embarrassed for having such shallow thoughts of the mage and truly felt remorseful. Instead, his earlier infatuation was replaced by something more. The Heron's love for Soren had become genuine.

Soren resumed his story, whispering softly in between sniffles. "And then I remember Ike and his father taking me in." The Heron Prince tilted his fair head closer to Soren in order to hear him better, the mage's warm breath tickling his ear and face. "They fed me and cared for me like I was one of them. That's why I am such good friends with Ike. He's family to me and the Greil Mercenaries are my home."

"I always knew you and Ike had some special bond." The Heron whispered back. "I can feel it in you. You hold a special place in your heart for Ike."

In the ensuing moment of silence, the White Prince nuzzled the mage's head, causing a heartwarming sensation to overcome the mage. Reyson was so tender and affectionate to the point where Soren felt safe and secure in the embrace of the Heron Prince, a feeling that he had never experienced before. Reyson was someone who the mage could place his complete trust in. Soren always had doubts whether or not Ike and the Greil Mercenaries would accept him for being one of the branded. One way or another, Soren would eventually let Ike know who he really was. The White Prince gave him the confidence to do so.

Much time had passed since Reyson had stepped inside the tent; the small fire in the center of the floor began to die down, red embers becoming faint. Soren felt nice and warm with Reyson's white wing encircling him, the feathers had such a soft and fluffy texture to them. Soren had trouble keeping his eyes open and began to doze.

"It's late Soren. We need to get up early tomorrow." The Heron got up and gently laid the mage out on the cot and covered his small robed body with the thick blanket. Soren's raven locks sprawled out on the pillow.

"Goodnight, Soren." The Heron turned towards the tent flap but was hindered when Soren grasped his hand.

"Please, Prince Reyson, sleep here for the night. The cot has enough room for the both of us and I don't want you walking back through the snow." Soren rolled over to the side of the cot, creating ample room.

Reyson hesitated a little, but then complied. "Is that the only reason you have for wanting me to sleep with you?"

Soren looked up from the pillow as he flushed red again, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl into a tiny smile. "Oh stop it, Prince Reyson."

The Heron removed the circlet from his head and set it down on the desk. Smoothing out his long blonde hair and kicking off his white boots, the Heron Prince lay down on the cot, angelic wings folding tidily behind him. Reyson snaked an arm around the mage's waist and kissed his bare shoulder, the mage snuggling close to the Heron. Blonde and raven hair interlaced with one another as they lay there, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Soren?"

"Hmm?"

"If you ever need a place to stay, come to the Serenes Forest. There, you will always have a place you can call home."


End file.
